


take me home

by guitar_catlady



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Backstory, Family Feels, Mentions of other characters - Freeform, brief mentions of violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-30
Updated: 2014-08-30
Packaged: 2018-02-15 10:22:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2225484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/guitar_catlady/pseuds/guitar_catlady
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of short drabbles that when re-arranged, lead up to and follow the events of Ultron. Set to 11 songs that inspired the section being written.</p>
            </blockquote>





	take me home

**Author's Note:**

> This is kind of written to be stories prior to and following Age of Ultron, kind of my predictions for what happened to them with Hydra and such.

**Home – Daughter**

    Wanda wandered the empty streets, chilly autumn air blowing her hair around like a storm. She had given up trying to fix it. Her arms were wrapped tightly around herself, protecting herself from the cold. She couldn't remember where she left her jacket.

    She couldn't remember where she was going, either. The scenery looked familiar, but her vision was blurry and she wasn't able to stand still. Her feet kept her moving to a destination she couldn't remember.

    It began to rain. Wanda sighed.

    She tried to walk more quickly, but her feet failed to carry her any faster than a shuffle. Her reflection in the window of a closed shop caught her eye, making her pause on the sidewalk.

    She stared at her sunken eyes, noting to herself that she needed to start sleeping better. Her hair was beginning to stick to her face and neck, and the rain was soaking through her clothes and skin. She turned away and walked on.

    Wanda still couldn't remember where she was going. She was starting to remember where she came from; somewhere warm, somewhere safe. She hoped the sidewalk was guiding her back there.

    A streetlamp flickered above her, Wanda paused again. She looked up through the rain to stare at the light. It flickered a few more times while she stared at it, before burning out with a defeated sigh. The sidewalk starting carrying Wanda away from the streetlamp.

    She found herself in front of a large, old-fashioned door. A large, golden knocker gleamed through the rain, beckoning to Wanda. She rang the doorbell.

    The door swung open before the chimes finished. Wanda squinted through the light now washing over her and the curtain of fuzz that already hung over her vision. The person in the doorway stepped out onto the porch and pulled her to their chest, folding around her like a blanket.

    “May I come in?” She asked tentatively.

    “You don't have to ask to come home.” Wanda was pulled inside, the door closed behind her. She looked at her surroundings dazedly, blinking away the curtain over her vision. Her eyes focused on white hair and blue eyes. Her body stopped feeling sluggish, her hands stopped shaking. “You're home.” Pietro whispered, catching her before she tipped over. Her breath carried a strong smell of alcohol.

    “I'm home.”

**O' Sister – City and Colour**

    Wanda was long asleep on the couch, a tea cup still in her hand. Pietro watched over her, worried that if he took his eyes off her, she would stop breathing. He noticed her hands slipping from the cup, and he swiped the tea cup from her, disposed of it in the kitchen, and was back in his armchair before her hand fell softly to her stomach.

    Her features were twisted delicately as she dreamed, her hand twitching subtly. Pietro had been noticing these things lately. After they escaped the facility, Wanda's sleep was no longer peaceful. Though, he wouldn't know if her sleep had been peaceful inside of the facility.

    He spent many long nights laying awake beside his sister, listening to her breath shake with fear. She often woke herself up when her unsteady breath transformed into sobs.

    For now, Pietro sat in the armchair in their small living room, watching over Wanda as she slept on the couch. Her breathing was slow and even, which Pietro declared a good sign, though her eyebrows were knit tightly together. Her hands seemed to be creating an object before her closed eyes, one so intricate her hands tangled themselves together over and over again.

    She woke suddenly, muttering to herself in Transian. She sat up quickly, and Pietro was beside her in an instant. Her muttering continued, but it was incoherent. Pietro wrapped his arms around her carefully, and her muttering stopped.

    _“There are too many ghosts.”_ She whispered to him. He kissed the back of her head.

    _“We are safe now sister.”_ Pietro pulled Wanda closer to him, a silent reassurance that he would protect her. _“The ghosts cannot harm us here.”_

**You Don't Know How Lucky You Are – Keaton Henson**

    The lights were dim throughout the room, but the atmosphere was not as peaceful as the lights wished it to be. The room was in near chaos.

    Music was playing too loudly, people were talking far too obnoxiously, and glasses clinked together too often. The noise was distracting and unsettling. But Wanda stood in the centre of it all, dancing with their mother in the centre of the room. Their bracelets jangled together, adding a soft bell sound to the music playing. Pietro sat in the corner of the room, as he usually did during family parties.

    Father had always tried to get Pietro to join the celebrations, but he could never get him to socialize more than five minutes. Unless Wanda was by his side.

    However, Wanda had invited a friend to their party, which sent Pietro back into his corner. Said friend was not someone Pietro was fond of. He failed to understand the basics of his sister, and Pietro often found her staring at her hands after a conversation with him.

    Still, she invited him to the party. Pietro suspected she had a sliver of hope that this friend of hers would try as much as she. But he was nowhere to be seen. Pietro suspected he left upon seeing how eccentric the party was.

    The song changed, and Wanda helped mother down from the table they had been dancing on. Pietro's eyes followed his sister, and saw her walk up to her friend. He hadn't gone home after all. Mother left Wanda alone, and went to continue dancing with the rest of their family.

    Wanda and her friend talked the rest of the night, ignoring invitations from their mother and other family members to join in the dances. Pietro sat restless the entire night, fighting the urge to take his sister away from her friend. He didn't like the way Wanda was smiling, as if she was forcing it. Her eyes looked sad, her hands were laced politely in her lap, and her ankles crossed the way Pietro knew she crossed them when she was uncomfortable.

    As mother and father began cleaning, Pietro finally approached his sister. He escorted her friend out, and after the door closed behind him, he was at Wanda's side again in an instant.

    “What did he do to you?” He asked immediately, cupping his sister's face and searching her eyes. Wanda laughed quietly.

    “Whatever do you mean, brother?”

    “The whole night,” Pietro ground his words through his teeth. “The whole night you looked like you wanted nothing more than for that boy to leave you alone.”

    Her lip twitched slightly as she pulled away from her brother. “Thank you for watching me the whole night, Pietro.” He reached for her hand, but she pulled it away. “'That boy' has a name.”

    “It seems irrelevant if he makes you upset.” Pietro stated bluntly, warranting a sigh from Wanda.

    “It's been a long night, Pietro. I think I'd like to go to bed.” She turned to leave. Pietro placed a gentle hand on her shoulder and turned her around.

    “Don't do anything just to please other people,” He told her. “Don't accept a person's company if they make you uncomfortable.” With that, Pietro raced to his room.

**Stranger – Katie Costello**

    Wanda hated driving. Whether it was mother driving, or father. She hated cars. She preferred to walk to her destinations, walking was peaceful. When she walked, she could focus and think. But her current situation was urgent, and her feet could only carry her so fast. She'd stolen the family car, despite her lack of a license, and tore off into the night.

    The moon was high in the sky as she pressed the car over the speed limit. Trees whipped by her, they grew over the road as if trying to reclaim the pavement.

    Wanda could see something darting in and out of the forest quickly. It swivelled through the trees, before skidding across the road and looping through the trees on the opposite side. Wanda rolled down her window, calling out her brother's name.

    The figure in the trees stopped, before racing towards the car. Wanda slammed on the brakes, the car stopping just as Pietro appeared in front of her. His hair was matted against his forehead, he was missing his sweater and his shoes, and his blue eyes were round and frightened. His hands were shaking so violently, they appeared as blurs at his sides.

    Wanda got out of the car, rushing towards her brother. He disappeared as she advanced, and appeared several feet away from her. She called his name gently, his head snapped up quickly.

    “Wanda,” His voice was barely a whisper, but she heard him. “What's happening?” Wanda walked slowly towards her brother, carefully. As she got closer, she extended her arms towards him. He fell into them, and the two collapsed on the pavement.

    She could feel him shaking. He clung to her, his breathing heavy and broken. Wanda had never seen her brother so afraid. She wrapped her arms tightly around him, a silent reassurance that he was safe.

    “Wanda...” Pietro looked up at her, his eyes frightened beyond compare. “What's happening to me?”

    “I don't know, brother,” She took his face in her hands and leaned her forehead against his. “But everything will be okay. You must be brave.”

    “I'm scared, Wanda.”

    She shook Pietro gently, and he looked through his lashes at her. “You are Pietro Maximoff. You are brave and you are strong. You will be okay, I will not let anything happen to you.”

    “I am Pietro Maximoff.” He repeated, before promptly falling asleep.

**Spectrum – Florence + The Machine**

    Light was burning Wanda's eyes. She wasn't sure where said light was coming from, she couldn't see anything but a pale red glow.

    Pietro was yelling somewhere to her right, and then to her left. His voice carried itself in a broken circle, as he was surely running around her, but she couldn't hear his feet hitting the ground. All she could hear was a dull ringing that was gradually drowning out his voice.

    She couldn't feel the ground under her, either. She felt like she was floating, drifting away. Pietro's voice was growing distant as the ringing intensified. The light in her eyes grew brighter, blinding. But Wanda wasn't afraid of the light. She welcomed it.

    Pietro's cries cut through the shrill in her ears, and the ringing silenced. Wanda suddenly felt like she was falling, and as she did, the red light grew farther and farther away from her.

    She landed with a cry in Pietro's arms. Her entire body felt like it was singing. She felt the red light thrumming through her bloodstream with each loud thump of her heart. Her hands glowed faintly, and she studied them until the light died.

    “Brother...” Wanda whispered, though her voice didn't break. She was stunned a moment; her voice sounded different. It was strong, powerful. It echoed in the night, claiming the attention of the trees and the moon. Pietro tightened his grip on her. “What has happened?” She looked up at her brother to find him looking at her with frightened eyes.

    “It would appear that we have experienced something very strange tonight, sister.” He whispered back to her. “Perhaps this is all a dream.”

    Wanda shook her head. “This is no dream.” The light in her veins hummed in agreement. “I feel so strong. The light tells me that this is not a dream.” She looked at her hands again, and the light began to surface again. It spread out from the veins in her hands, streaming over her knuckles and into her palms. She rotated her hands and watched the light rise into the air in small, bubble-like spheres.

    Pietro watched the small light spheres rise out of his sister's hand with fear. He did not like what was happening to them, but Wanda seemed to be drawn to this light. It had picked her up off the ground and poured itself into her body.

    The spheres stopped rising out of Wanda's hand, and the light retreated back into her veins. The last few circles of light danced up towards the moon. She watched them with amazement.

    “We should go.” Wanda looked up at her brother again. He was watching the spheres disappear into the sky. “Mother and father will know what to do.” Pietro turned and took slow steps towards the car, as if afraid the speed was going to seize him again.

    “What if there's nothing that can be done?” Wanda asked. Her new, powerful voice was laced with fear; it sounded wrong. “What if mother and father are scared of us?” That made Pietro stop.

    He stood silent a long while, making Wanda grow anxious. “I will not let them hurt you.” He finally declared. The light in Wanda's veins hummed unhappily.

    _No one will touch you._ It seemed to say to her. _You are made of light and power._ _No one will dare harm the Scarlet Witch._    

**Come Home – One Republic**

    Pietro was not fond of fights with his sister, even less fond of them when Wanda was drunk. She was strong in arguments, always believing herself to be right. Alcohol made her more aggressive. She physically forced her opinion on him, she made each point with a finger jabbed against his chest and, rarely, a slap across the face.

    They hardly fought, Pietro hated arguing with her. There was never anything to argue, anyway, but their few arguments were loud and heartbreaking and sad. The two would collapse at opposite ends of the room, desperate for air, their vocal chords strained. Wanda always won, and she always would. Pietro couldn't contain her anger, and this led to her always getting her way.

    Wanda never drank to get drunk, either. She would occasionally have a glass of wine at dinner or when they holed up in the living room to watch movies. She'd only been drunk twice before: the night after they escaped from the facility, and the third night they had lived in the house given to them by Tony Stark.

    That night had ended in a massive argument, Wanda had still been reeling from the combination of experiences from the facility and the Ultron war. She wasn't stable. The alcohol had conflicted with the light inside her and she exploded with rage. Pietro wished he hadn't tried to contain her, and instead tried to help her relax.

    Though she would never use her powers against him, she was capable of hurting him without them. She'd passed out after spitting in his face. They had been tense the day after, but were back to being Pietro and Wanda by the following evening. They couldn't be angry with each other for long.

    And so, when Pietro returned to their small home on a cold, autumn night to find his sister sitting in the living room with a near-empty bottle of vodka, he was nervous to say the least. She was watching the light above her flicker, and without looking away from it, she greeted him.

    He raced to her side and plucked the bottle from her hands, discarding it on the coffee table. The light above them burned out with a small, grateful sigh. Pietro ran a hand gently through Wanda's tangled hair, praying silently she was not in the same mood she had been in the last time she had been drunk. She pulled away from his touch, pulling herself up from the couch and onto unsteady legs. She grabbed the bottle of vodka from the table, her jacket from the closet, and swept herself out into the night without a word.

    Pietro ran out the door and down the steps, stopping his sister on the sidewalk.

    “Where are you going?” He asked her, taking her face gently in his hands. Her eyes were glossy, distant, but they told him she was thinking of their last argument. She turned away from him quickly and trudged down the sidewalk away from him.

    He watched his sister walk for a long time, until he lost sight of her. Pietro wasn't sure where she was going, but he knew she would come back. She always did.

    He would gather her in his arms, and hold her until she fell asleep. He would whisper stories to her while she slept, hoping that they kept the nightmares away. Protecting her, that was all he'd ever done. He was her rock, her foundation, her home.

    Even if it was three in the morning, she was soaked to the bone, and she didn't know where she was, Pietro knew Wanda would always come home.

**Blood – The Middle East**

    It seemed like they had been running forever. There was nothing but trees blurring past them now, Wanda forgot what a city looked like. It had been a long time since mother and father had taken them to the city.

    Pietro kept running, not thinking of the city or of mother and father. His only objective was to get him and his sister someplace safe, somewhere where the facility’s people wouldn't find them. The sounds and smells of the fire had long since died, Wanda suspected they were no longer in Germany, or anywhere close for that matter.

    Wanda begged her brother multiple times to rest, but her words were lost in the wind that whipped by them. She could see the exertion on his face, his eyes filled with anger and fear, his mouth a taught line. Sweat beaded on his forehead and tumbled down his nose. His heart was hammering under Wanda's hand.

    She moved her hand from his chest to his face, begging him to look at her. When he did, she whispered another plea for him to slow down; that they were safe now. Pietro slowed his feet, bringing them to a halt under an old, large tree.

    “Brother,” She whispered. His blue eyes were still angry, still afraid. “We are safe now. We are far away from the facility and we are safe.”

    The air around them was salty. Wanda wondered if Pietro had run them straight through to the ocean. They had never been to the ocean before.

    “You must rest.” She told him, climbing out of his arms. “You have over-exerted yourself. Your gift is still new.” Pietro collapsed under the tree with a huff. Wanda sat down carefully beside him.

    “It is not a gift, sister.” He mumbled. “We were not given these abilities because we were good, or because of occasion. You heard what they said in the facility. We are _Gräuel_.”

    Wanda sighed. “The facility was not run by good people, they don't know who or what we are. They tortured us out of fear of the unknown. We are the better people, brother. They can no longer hurt us, we are too strong.”

    “Our family is dead because of us.” Pietro said bluntly. He rubbed a hand over his face and stood. Wanda watched him pace in front of her, until he became a blur.

    “You're going to wear a hole in the ground straight through to America.” She commented, hearing Pietro snort in reply as he slowed to normal speed.

    He sat beside her again after he decided he had paced enough. He reached for his sister's hand, holding it tighter than Wanda could remember. They sat in silence for a long time, listening to the distant sound of waves crashing on a beach. Wanda could hear gulls squawking and children screaming, quiet music in a language she couldn't recognize, and laughter. She got up and started walking towards the sounds. Pietro followed behind her, confused.

    The two exited the forest and stood on the outskirts of a beach, overlooking a small crowd of people and the largest amount of water they had ever seen in one place. None of the people seemed to notice Pietro and Wanda.

    That was perfectly okay with them.

**We Found Each Other in the Dark – City and Colour**

    The facility was not what they had been told it was going to be. The man that had greeted them that first day had promised them they would be safe there, that they would help them with their gifts. But they were wrong. The facility did not help them, they tortured them. They poked and prodded them, starved them, pushed them until they couldn't move.

    They were kept in cells below the facility they had been shown around. Pietro remembers Wanda feeling uneasy during the entire tour, but he convinced her that they must do whatever was best for them to better understand their abilities. He had no idea what was in store for them.

    Pietro longed to see the moon again, to lay with his sister on the lawn outside their home and count the stars. Home seemed so far away.

    The men who ran the facility told them that they were home, that the doctors were their new family. Their sick idea of “family bonding” was strapping Pietro to a treadmill, shoving a glowing staff to his chest, and telling him to run.

    He spent long nights running circles around his cell, throwing himself against the walls in hopes they would give way. He would eventually tire himself out and fall asleep curled up in the corner of the cell, as far away from the cot they'd given him as possible.

    Wanda was silent, as she always was. He never heard her talking back to the guards or pounding against her cell walls. She didn't make a peep during “family bonding,” excluding the answers to questions she was asked.

    The twins had been kept separate for the months they were held captive. The windowed wall of Wanda's cell was blacked out when Pietro was in testing. It seemed like a cruel joke to him. He remembers once he got away from the guards long enough to tap on the window, to hear Wanda faintly whisper his name from the other side.

    He was beaten for that, but he found it as a minor punishment. He now knew how to get him and his sister out of the facility. He just had to wait.

    And one day, when the man with the monocle walked into the experimentation chamber dragging Wanda by her arm, Pietro knew that the waiting was over. Wanda was thrown to her knees in front of the chair Pietro was strapped to. She didn't cry out, as her weak looking limbs suggested she would have, but instead she looked up into her brother's eyes. He tried desperately to convey to her that he had a plan, that he would get them out of there, that he would protect her. But she turned her head away and looked at the doctors. Pietro noticed a small smile playing on her lips, before she stood, veins glowing pink underneath her skin.

    The doctors screamed for Strucker, but the terror had barely left their mouths as Wanda raised her arms and the experimentation room was bathed in red light. The doctors watched the lights flicker, before all the bulbs blew with an angry sigh.

    The straps on Pietro's arms and legs snapped open, and he pushed himself out of the chair quickly, racing towards his sister. As they collided, the red light vanished, and the room was plunged into darkness. The doctors were yelling again, German words Pietro nor Wanda understood.

    _“I am here, sister.”_ Pietro whispered. _“You are safe.”_ Wanda's hands began to glow, she told him to run. She lit the way out of the facility and into harsh sunlight.

    He held Wanda close to his chest. She was thinner than he remembered; her long limbs were lacking the muscles that had propelled her throughout their youth. Her hair was greasy, and hung around her in a stringy curtain. Pietro sang quietly to her, as their mother had done when they were children. He knew how it comforted Wanda when she had awoken from nightmares.

    He kept running, he kept singing. His only goal in that moment to reassure Wanda that she was safe.

**Hey Brother – AVICII**

    “I think I finally feel free.” Wanda whispered. She stood on the bottom rung of the railing that overlooked the sea, spreading her arms to catch the breeze rolling off the water. Pietro stood silently to her left, watching over the people who strolled the beach

    Wanda continued rambling about wanting to stay in the city they were currently in. She did this in every city they stopped in, though Pietro never tired of it. He enjoyed the happiness in Wanda's features.

    “When will we travel to America, brother?” She asked, stepping down from the railing. Pietro turned to look at her. He hadn't considered travelling across the ocean. “We can meet the man in the iron armour.” Wanda smiled.

    They looped arms and walked down the pier towards the beach. “We would be much safer in America.” Pietro mused. The problem was the distance. The ocean seemed endless and impossible to cross. Wanda believed he could run across it, stating that he had run from Germany to Portugal in the matter of minutes.

    “A new life waits for us across the water, brother.” Wanda stopped, turning to look out at the water again. “Do you want to run away from it, or towards it?”

**Home – Mumford & Sons**

    The roof of their old home often gave way to rain. It seemed father was outside almost every day trying to prevent the water from entering, but the rain found new holes to leak in through.

    Pietro and Wanda would sit on the lawn that was wet with the night's rain, watching their father climb onto the roof. He would wave to them, and they would wave back. While their father worked, they talked. They talked for hours. They talked long after father had come down from the roof and gone back inside.

    Their parents never knew what they talked about, it was always in hushed, animated whispers. Their hands flew about them as they illustrated things to each other. They talked until it started to rain again.

    They would run for the house, Pietro's jacket held above Wanda's head to keep her curls dry. Mother said God had worked extra hard on creating those curls for Wanda.

    As they got older, the more they talked. They would sit outside for hours, long after their father got off the roof and went back inside, and long after it started to rain. Pietro's jacket would be draped over Wanda's head as they tried to catch raindrops on their tongues.

    They chased each other down the street in the rain, barefoot and carefree. They would race each other home, Wanda on the right shoulder of the road, Pietro on the left. He would let her win every single time.

    Night's that weren't drowned by rain, the twins sat on the lawn outside their home and talked for hours. They counted the stars until long after their parents went to bed. They stayed up to watch the sunrise, and counted the birds that flew along the horizon. Mother scolded them when she found them still sitting on the lawn, chattering away.

    During the summer, father set up a tent in the backyard for the twins to camp out in for a night or two. They stayed in there the whole summer, pretending they were on a real camping trip. Father made them a bonfire to roast marshmallows over, and they sat by it for hours, telling ghost stories they came up with off the top of their heads.

    They took turns seeing who could climb the highest in the tree on the front lawn. Father built them a tree fort at the end of that summer. Wanda taught Pietro how to dance in the fort, and he showed her all of the books he read.

    The wood of the tree fort is rotten now, they didn't make use of it for much other things besides hiding from their parents. They had preferred to sit in the grass at the bottom of the tree. The roof of their old home has caved in after years of water dripping through unfixed holes. The tent in the backyard was taken down years ago, and grass has reclaimed the area which had once been the fire pit.

    But Pietro and Wanda still feel an odd sense of connection to this place. It no longer looks like the world they knew as children, but as they sit in the overgrown grass of the front lawn, they swear they have never felt more at home.

**Medicine – Daughter**

    “Everything's going to be okay, Wanda.” Pietro spoke confidently, taking his sister's hand in a firm grip. She turned her head to look at him. “You're going to be okay.”

    “What happened?” She asked. Her head was throbbing and the light in veins was absent.

    “Nightmare.” Pietro replied. Wanda gave him a small nod, turning her head to look at the ceiling. Her brother kissed her knuckles softly, before releasing her hand. “You were using your magic in your sleep.”

    “That's never happened before.” Wanda breathed. She almost repeated herself in fear he hadn't heard her, but he did. He always heard her.

    “It was a little scary,” Pietro admitted, chuckling lightly. “But you woke up almost immediately.” His hand found her's again, and he played with her fingers. He was trying to distract her. Wanda turned to look at him again, to find him studying her.

    She sat up quickly, despite the throb in her head begging her not to do so. “Did I hurt you?” She demanded, pulling her hand away from his. Pietro looked down at his hands. She grabbed his chin, forcing him to look at her. “Did I?”

    He smiled softly. “It's just a little bruise, Wanda, nothing to worry about.” Wanda shook her head and climbed out of the bed. Pietro immediately placed a firm hand on her shoulder. “Whoa, whoa, no. Doc said you're not supposed to get out of bed.”

    “I can't just sit here all day! I want to walk around, get coffee, do something.” She'd been growing sick of staring at the same white walls all day, listening to the heart monitor hum beside her. Everyone who came to visit was bruised and battered, but they were free to walk around. Wanda found it ultimately annoying that she was the one confined to a bed.

    Pietro's hand relaxed on her shoulder. He guided her out of the room, taking slow, careful steps. Wanda could only imagine how much he hated having to move slowly. The hallway was mostly empty, save a man and a young woman dressed in white gowns similar to Wanda's. They nodded at the twins, the twins nodded back. Names were called over intercoms, doctor's raced around at varying levels of urgency, and more people in gowns milled about. The chaos was calming to Wanda, she always felt more calm amidst crowds.

    Pietro chattered while he walked her around, telling her about Stark's new suit, about the man with mechanical wings who had quite literally flown in out of nowhere, and he told her that everyone wished her a speedy recovery, even the flying man.

    No one could quite remember what happened, but Wanda guessed it was her own fault of magic. Stark told her she had lit up like Christmas. Pietro thought it was his fault, not being able to sweep her out of danger before Ultron blew up. But the answer was unclear.

    The light in Wanda's veins hadn't been singing after the 'incident', as she heard the Avengers calling it. She wanted desperately to hear it call to her, to watch the spheres float out of her hand like the day her powers manifested. Pietro telling her that she'd used her powers in her sleep both thrilled and worried her. She voiced her concerns of her powers being lost after she'd first woken up in the hospital, but Pietro had been at her side instantly, telling her that they were only getting stronger.

    Her abilities worried the Avengers, that was made clear many times. When they came to check on her, they stood a safe distance away with their hand clasped in front of them. Except for the doctor, Bruce. He seemed intrigued by her, and sat by her bed to listen to the stories she told about Transia.

    “When am I allowed to leave?” Wanda asked, as Pietro led her back to her room.

    “The doctor said you're doing well,” He replied, smiling down at her. “He said you'll be allowed to leave tomorrow evening, at the latest.” Wanda returned his smile. She was sick of being cooped up.

    Pietro helped her back into the bed, and pulled the blankets around her. He sat down in the chair beside her bed, taking her hand again. He started telling her more about what was happening with the Avengers, how Stark was going to buy them a house, just for the two of them. He re-told her stories he'd heard in the tower, stories about the workshop in the basement that housed over ten iron suits, and stories about the archer, and how he often sat in the middle of the living room at three in the morning to startle Stark.

    Wanda couldn't wait to leave, she grew more excited with each story. Eventually, Pietro ran out of stories, so they talked. They talked about their new home, the doctors, the battle, Wanda's magic.

    They talked for hours.

**Author's Note:**

> I listened to the playlist [take me home](http://8tracks.com/raechellesux/take-me-home) while writing, the song that played depicting the events I wrote about. It was very fun and interesting to write and I hope you enjoyed it! c:


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